


Blank Canvas

by aintweproudriff



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Swearing, cheesy metaphors, im literally javidblue yall this is the best day of my life, this fic is living up to my name and im LOVING IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintweproudriff/pseuds/aintweproudriff
Summary: Prompt: Davey helps Jack through a bad dysphoria day





	Blank Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> Although I am nonbinary, I have been lucky enough to not deal with gender dysphoria in my life. As such, that makes this fic inaccurate to the trans experience and I'm very sorry for that. This fic actually deals a little bit more with misgendering and hurt/comfort. It is not my intention with this fic to offend, or to say that this is the universal trans experience. If you have an issue with this fic, I would genuinely like to know so that I can apologize or take action to ensure this fic is dealt with or that I don't make a mistake again. Thanks for understanding!

The smell of new winter met Davey’s nose with a stinging whisper. No, it wouldn’t snow quite yet. But it would happen soon, for sure. He knew that in two months, he would be sick of the dreariness and gray, and he’d wish his coat was red or purple instead of black, just so he could see come color in the blank world. For now, though, he wanted to revel in the changing of the seasons, of the rapid cooling of the sky, and the black and white movie that his life looked like. He felt so excited to see winter come that he had gone and bought a new book, wanting to have something to read for when he was huddled next to the fire with a mug of coffee. Davey had even gone so far as to buy a new candle, one that smelled like “vanilla pine,” so that he could take a fireplace with him wherever he was in the apartment. 

He’d opted not to take the bus today, and instead decided to walk home. It wasn’t long, only a few blocks, and he liked the cold. It made him feel like a character in an old novel, walking romantically through a snowy wood. Or, in his case, a concrete jungle. 

As Davey turned the doorknob to the apartment, he wondered if Jack had noticed the weather at all. In theory, he should have, but sometimes he got so caught up in work or in art that he couldn’t have noticed a train smashing through the window of his studio. 

“Jack?” Davey called, smiling wide. “Jackie?”

There was no answer: strange for Jack, who was usually loud enough that Davey could tell where he was immediately. He didn’t call back, he wasn’t bumping around making food in the kitchen, and there was no music playing from anywhere in the apartment. 

“Jack!” he called out again, setting his bag down gently. “Are you home?” 

The smell of paint, too fresh to have been from yesterday, alerted him that Jack had been home recently, at the very least. He made the trek down the hallway, the one lined with paintings Jack had done of their friends. Spot and Race and Crutchie and Katherine watched him walk down the hall, all of them smiling and encouraging. 

He pushed the half-ajar door, closing his eyes so he didn’t accidentally see any of Jack’s unfinished works. 

“Jack? Are you in here?” he asked, and heard a quiet whimper. 

“I assume that’s you,” Davey laughed. “Can I come in?”

He heard another squeak, and he took that to mean yes. Upon opening his eyes and looking around, he saw Jack sitting cross-legged on the floor, a blank canvas behind him. 

“Hey, Jack,” Davey’s voice grew soft. “What’s going on?”

Jack held out his arms in response. His left hand and his arm all the way up to his shoulder were painted dark blue, and it was the same on his right arm, only that his right arm stopped at his elbow. Paintbrushes laid scattered around him, all of them dipped in the same color his skin had turned. 

“Oh my god, Jack,” Davey breathed, sitting down on the floor in front of his boyfriend. “What made you do this?” 

Jack pressed his hands to the floor. “Fuck, I knew you’d be angry.”

“I’m not angry, Jackie,” he squinted his eyes, trying to make his voice as kind as possible. “I just want to know why you’re sitting here on the floor, covered in paint. If anything, I’m much more intrigued.”

“I wanted to try somethin’.” Jack’s eyes could have bored holes in the wood. There was more to this story.

“Try what?” 

Jack didn’t respond for a few seconds. 

“Hey, hey,” Davey whispered, leaning in closer. “Of course you don’t have to tell me. But I want you to know that you can. Tell me, I mean. You can tell me anything.”

He watched his boyfriend swallow and nod his head. 

“I wanted to try bein’ blue.”

Davey couldn’t help himself; he shot out breaths of air from his nose in almost a half-laugh. 

“You wanted to try being blue?”

Jack breathed heavily through his mouth. “Well, yeah. I didn’t figure you’d get it, so I was gonna wash it off before you got home but you came home earlier than I thought you would so now I feel like an idiot.”

“What is there to get, Jack? Can you explain it to me?” Davey asked, all sorts of alarms sounding in his head over how distressed Jack’s face looked. 

“It’s stupid, it doesn’t matter,” Jack shook his head.

“Well, that’s not true,” Davey waved his arms. “Obviously, it meant something to you, and maybe it mattered to you. Can you help me to have it matter to me too?” 

The smell of paint got more and more pungent as the seconds wore on. 

“I, uh, wasn’t feelin’ great when I woke up this morning,” Jack started, and Davey listened intently. “I figured it would pass after I got some food or coffee or whatever, but it didn’t go away. I was real sad for a few hours, and just kinda down, I guess. But uh, at about noon I decided to take a break and there were some messages I needed to get to online. I thought it was gonna be little stuff, but it ended up bein’ someone who thought they needed to come into my messages and talk to me about me bein’ a girl.”

Davey sighed, biting his tongue in an attempt to bite down his anger. Jack didn’t deserve that kind of thing. Here was a boy, one of the toughest Davey had ever seen, who had his day ruined by someone who couldn’t think past their own insecurity.

“So, the paint?” Davey asked.

“So, I started painting,” Jack nodded, “but I couldn’t get any work done because I was so angry. And I wasn’t angry, really, I just felt wrong. Nothing I could have done would have been right, because I wasn’t right.”

Davey shook his head, violently. 

“I’m sorry, Dave, I didn’t mean to make you upset or anythin’, but you did ask and-”

David stood up suddenly, and walked to the other end of the room, before pacing back. He landed right behind Jack, standing a few feet away from him. The only thing that separated the two of them was-

“See this canvas?” David asked, picking it up. Jack turned around and looked up at Davey. From this angle, Davey noted, Jack looked so small. “What’s wrong with this canvas?”

Jack furrowed his eyebrows together and shook his head. 

“What’s wrong with this canvas?”

“Uh, well. It’s blank?” Jack guessed, and Davey could tell that he didn’t understand what was happening. 

“Hm, yeah,” Davey nodded, pursing his lips together. “But like, is that really something that’s wrong with this?”

“What do you mean?” Jack shook his head again. 

“Is it bad that it’s blank?”

“I guess not-”

“Because being blank is just a state of being, right? It can’t help that it’s blank. But what if it were all blue? Or all pink? Or all purple? Would that be bad?”

“I guess it wouldn’t be bad,” Jack tilted his head to the side. “I mean, it couldn’t help being that way,” he chuckled. 

“Right!” David sat back down with a plop. “That canvas can’t help the way it was made. It can’t help it if it’s blue or purple or blank. It can’t help it if it’s a boy or a girl,” Davey smiled, “or neither, and it can’t help it if it doesn’t even have a brain that would allow it to comprehend gender.” 

“Dave, what the hell are you tryin’ to say?” 

Davey blinked. “Actually, if I’m honest, I kinda lost it there for a second. I got too excited with my metaphor.”  
Jack laughed at him, and Davey stuck out his tongue.

“But, uh, what I think I was trying to say was that you can’t help the way you look, or the way you feel. You can’t help your gender, and you can’t help your sex. You’re a lot like that blank canvas, I think. Except,” Davey pondered, “that that canvas has to wait for someone to make it into a masterpiece. It has to let someone else, someone very very talented-” he nudged his boyfriend, who laughed, “-realize its full potential for it. You, on the other hand, maximize your own potential.”

“Thanks, Davey,” Jack blushed. 

“Plus, you know, I think you’re a lot more handsome than any canvas, painted or not.”

With a gasp, Jack stood up. “Even with blue all over my arms?”

“Always.” 

“You’re sweet, you know that?”

Davey paused and looked at Jack, whose paint was drying and cracking along his arms. Jack didn’t deserve to have some asshole ruin his day, but he hoped he’d always be there to help when something like that happened. 

“Jack,” Davey asked, “are you going to be okay?”

“I mean, yeah,” Jack bobbed his head. “But I’m not really right now. I’m better, for sure. But this’ll pass.”

Davey smiled. “Yeah it will. And then,” he raised his eyebrows, “you’ll paint something blue for me, right? Something that’s not your skin?”

Jack nodded, first at his boyfriend, and then at the blank canvas that was still on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated, or you can come talk to me on tumblr @spot-and-all-his-cronies or @javidblue  
> also this fic is literally javid and it's blue how awesome is that


End file.
